Free Burned in Broken Hearts Junction: A Cozy Matchmaker Mystery (Cozy Matchmaker Mystery Series) by Meg Muldoon Page B

begin with.  
    “Is that what this is about?” I asked.
    “No,” he said. “This is about you going over the speed limit. I’m just making small talk.”
    I scoffed.
    “Sure you are.”
    He waited for me to say more. Waiting on an explanation that I didn’t need to give, and that I wasn’t going to give.
    I glanced at his notepad.
    “You going to give me that ticket? Or are you just going to hover there?”
    He looked at me angrily and scribbled in his notepad some.
    “I’ll let you off with a warning,” he said, flipping the leather cover back over.
    I knew he wasn’t talking about my speeding.
    “You can’t keep acting like this, Raymond,” I said. “It’s not good for anyone.”
    I sighed.
    “I was honest with you from the start,” I said. “I told you it wasn’t gonna work out. We’re just not meant for each other.”
    “There you are again with that mystical bull crap,” he said, that old familiar anger in his voice. “You think me pulling you over is a crock? What you’re saying there about us not being meant for each other… that’s the biggest crock of them all.”
    “It’s the truth Raymond.”
    “No. The truth is that you’ve never let him go. And you never even gave us a chance. How could you when you still talk to that bastard?”
    I shook my head, turning the ignition and starting the truck.  
    “Think whatever you like,” I said. “Just don’t stop me like this again.”
    I pulled away before he could start shouting at me.
     

 
    Chapter 21
     
    I’d visited just about every small business in Broken Hearts Junction, but struck out everywhere I went.
    Beth Lynn’s mystery man was nowhere to be found.
    There were a few guys who matched the description of a short, stocky man with black hair and thick glasses. One of them was a bank teller at the Bank of the High Desert, and another one was an insurance salesman. But neither one of them was the one .
    I could sense it in my gut.
    No. Beth Lynn’s mystery man was still out there, somewhere.
    After walking through Ray’s Grocery, where I killed two birds with one stone by scanning the face of every male employee and customer while picking myself up a nice, juicy steak for dinner, I came back to the truck and pulled out my old, worn black matchmaking book from underneath the car seat.
    The book, which I hadn’t touched in months, was like a roadmap of the past decade of my life. In it, I had written notes and drawn faces and places that had pertinence to the matches I was trying to make.
    Hank watched me while I jotted down a few notes in it by the light of the parking lot street lamps. 
    It was important to keep track of where I’d been so I’d know where else I needed to cover. Otherwise, it was easy to go around in circles, not finding anything or anyone.
    Just then, my phone rang.
    My heart jumped, the way it always did.
    And then I was let down, like I always was.
    I thought about not answering, but knew she wouldn’t stop calling until I picked up.
    I sighed, and held the phone up to my ear.
    “Hi, Mom,” I said.
    “There you are, Loretta,” she said, her voice high pitched and full of enthusiasm.
    Shortly after, there was a crash of pots and pans in the background.
    “Damn, Page. You’ve got butterfingers tonight,” I heard Morg say in the background.
    My mom ignored her husband of two years, and I heard the faucet turn on.
    “I was beginning to get worried about you, hon,” she said. “I haven’t heard from you in days.”
    “I know,” I said. “Sorry. I’ve just been busy.”
    I knew eventually that I’d have to tell her that I’d lost my job, but I was hoping to push that moment off until I absolutely had to. I didn’t need her getting hysterical and then offering that I move in with her and Morg, which is what happened when Jacob left. And which was the last thing I needed to hear right now.
    “Too busy to chew the fat with your poor old, decrepit mother?” she asked, laying on the guilt